


Come together, don't leave me behind

by punklynch



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blue is very sad, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5843059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punklynch/pseuds/punklynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blue Sargent takes a bath because she is sad and muses over fate and other things<br/>Set sometime in the middle of BLLB</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come together, don't leave me behind

Blue Sargent was a fanciful but sensible creature. The fanciful exhibited itself that afternoon as she lowered herself into a warm and bubbly bath. The water was purple, thanks to a bath bomb she found in the cabinet under the sink. It smelled like lavender and cinnamon. She was fairly certain it was one of her mother's, though it was in a shade Calla would most certainly wear on her lips but seemed like the type of thing Persephone would make.

  
She had spent the better part of the day walking other people's dogs and then hung out with Adam, offering advice on his college application essays. Once again she was struck with the feeling of loneliness, despite the house stuffed full of psychics and her handful of raven boys. Maybe because of these factors. None of those women were her mother and one of those boys was going to die. Another was decaying.

  
Blue was struck, not for the first time, by the fact that she had never known loss. Never had she experienced a lack of love in her family. Never the way Adam had. She had never lost someone either. She used to feel infuriated by Ronan's tough front, his anger, how he buried his love deep under a layer of shittiness. Now she understood Ronan a little better, though she reminded herself every moment of every day, _my mother is not dead, my mother is not dead, my mother is not dead_. It got harder to believe her little mantra every day that passed, every motherless day, especially now; she could feel how the stakes had raised in their quest, every step, every turn leading towards something she felt she had been waiting for her entire life. As if school and psychic readings and the daily battle for the bathroom and Nino’s were just trivial things; distracting glimmers in the way of fate.

  
Lately, she could feel the tension in Cabeswater, reflecting the anxiety she felt as certain factors lined up in her life to form a deadly puzzle, or spider’s web. Greenmantle, the cave, her mom, the fact that she almost certainly wouldn't go to college, Noah, the third sleeper, Gansey-

Gansey, the cherry on top of the anxiety cake of her life. The end, although she mostly tried not to think of it that way, came closer and closer with each breath she took and with each visit to Cabeswater. Despite all the miracles and magical wonders they unearthed, each day hurtled him closer to his grave. 

It was too much for such a small girl to bear.

  
Foolishly, she was struck with the idea to ring Gansey, to drag the phone with its enormously long chord to the bathroom and dial Gansey's number with her sudsy finger.

  
That was when the sensible part of her won dominance. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

  
But what she wouldn't give to hear his voice, not his presidential voice, the one that emitted coolness, calmness and in control-ness. Nor did she want to hear his anxiety-ridden voice, the voice he used as he felt hornets crawl over the thin skin of his eyelids. The voice he used when he thought he was going to die.  
Blue shuddered. She hoped she never had to hear that Gansey again.

  
No, she wanted to hear the Gansey that existed between the dusty pages of a Welsh mythology book. The Gansey who lovingly cut and pasted clippings into his journal, who bought the Camaro, who constructed the model Henrietta. The Gansey who picked his friends and stuck by them, no matter how ugly things got. She wanted the Gansey who almost-kissed her under the stars overlooking Henrietta, the Gansey who rang her in the clutches of insomnia, the Gansey who placed a mint leaf on her tongue, the Gansey she was sure only she knew in his entirety.

  
A hornet buzzed on the window sill of the bathroom.

  
Instead of ringing Gansey, she took a shuddering breath and dunked her head under the soft water. The pressure against her ears did nothing to drown out her widely spinning thoughts.

  
She wished for her mother.

  
She wished for a future that involved all her boys.

  
She wished for so many things, which was dangerous territory for a sensible but fanciful girl.

  
Her _something more_ was shaping up to be harder and sadder than she imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this work. I composed most of it in my head when I was taking a bath because I was mulling over TRK. I hope you enjoy x
> 
> Title from 'come together' by Laurel


End file.
